


we don't talk about it

by Argella



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eddie POV, I promise, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Soulmates, angst but not really it's angst Light if even that, apparently the losers dont get each other bday presents (bc i forgot), but it's wrapped up by the end bc i needed a HEA, eddie is soft and confused, if you squint while reading you can ignore the plot holes, the plot is held together by duct tape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argella/pseuds/Argella
Summary: Only when he wakes up he’s intimately aware of how their arms had brushed against each other; how his soulmate’s hand had hovered over the small of his back, a warmth so hot Eddie swears he can feel it through his shirt even still the next day; the distorted yet contagious laugh that bubbles out of his soulmate’s mouth when Eddie manages to catch him off guard with a joke.It’s when he first wakes up that he feels sick. When he lets his mom’s acerbic voice leak into his head, you’re sick Eddie, boys don’t touch other boys, you’re sick and you need to get better.reddie soulmate au for the it fandom exchange 2020
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 151





	we don't talk about it

**Author's Note:**

> i got dark-alice-lilith for the it fandom exchange, so this is for them! :)
> 
> title is from meet me in the hallway by harry styles bc i have no originality

Eddie’s feet pound thunderously on the cement sidewalk below him, his hair moving with the rush of wind whipping through it. 

There’s a laugh behind him, loud and boisterous—one he’s heard in nearly all of these dreams. He’d like to think he could pick it out in a lineup if he had to. Imagines the police ushering him into one of those rooms where they make suspects stand up against the wall, like in one of his ma’s crime shows, only here it would be cassette tapes propped against the wall in their 4 inch glory, each to be played and followed with a, “Well, Mr. Kaspbrak,” (He thinks they would call him that, even though he’s still a teenager, because that’s just what cops do, right? And this would be a very serious matter, picking out your soulmate’s laugh from a lineup) “do you recognize any of the laughs we’ve just played for you?” And without hesitation he would nod, eagerly pointing out the guilty tape and a door in the corner would open, finally revealing his soulmate’s face, like some sort of game show prize reveal. 

But he knows that, even if the whole thing worked like that, he wouldn’t recognize the laugh, not for real. He hears it in his dreams near constantly, enough by now that his heart is sure the rhythm is in sync with its own beats, but when he wakes up and tries to imagine it it’s all wrong. It sounds distorted, like on those old Charlie Brown shows when an adult is speaking, and a loud whomping sound comes out instead of whatever they’d been saying. 

Still, at night he knows it. It’s his soulmate’s laugh, one that he’s heard thousands of times over since he was a kid and hopes to hear thousands of times over when they finally see each other and can meet outside of their dreams. 

He suddenly stops running, knees wobbling a bit at the sudden halt in momentum. Turning around, he sees the sun reflecting blindingly off the figure catching up to him. For just a moment he thinks he can make out the shape of a face, a stray lock of hair drooping over a forehead. It’s gone in a flash though, his soulmate’s features reverting to a hazy outline, nothing identifiable standing out to Eddie. 

There’s one thing Eddie’s sure of though. His soulmate’s a boy. He’d been sure of that since the first dream, back when he was still a child and he didn’t quite understand why that might be a bad thing. Before he’d gotten older and his mom had made it a point to make her opinions on boys like him known to Eddie. 

She didn’t know of course. Even before he’d known his soulmate being a boy would be a bad thing to Sonia Kaspbrak, he’d kept his dreams a secret from her; wanting to keep something to himself for once. And besides, she’d had a particularly nasty view on soulmates since his dad had died. So, she’d been content to keep believing Eddie’s lies about not having dreams, a disconcerting gleam in her eye as she fawned over him and his lack of a connection, spouting off about how he didn’t need anyone else in his life but her. 

He’d found it nerve wracking at first, keeping a secret like that from her, guilt hitting him hard even though he knew, at the very core of himself, that she’d never forgive him if she knew his soulmate was a boy. But then that summer had happened. And with it he discovered the truth: he wasn’t the sick one, she was. And who’s to say she wasn’t wrong about all of this soulmate business too? After that, each and every, “No mama, no dreams yet” tasted less like guilt in his mouth and more like victory. 

That’s not to say Eddie’s completely okay with his soulmate being a boy. 

In his dreams it doesn’t matter. It’s like all of the concerns with the outside world melt away, and it’s just the two of them, running around within their dreamscapes, reading comic books, deftly moving around each other over rocks and overturned logs in the woods. He desperately wants to ask if everything looks the same for his soulmate—he may be asleep but it’s not hard for Eddie to recognize the parts of Derry that they move through. But that’s not allowed, no questions of location or identification, some weird force preventing any of these thoughts leaving his mouth. Nobody knows exactly how it works, it’s just the rules; you must wait until you’re 18, then you can say and ask anything, even _see_ your soulmate. 

Eddie loves the dreams he has. It’s almost always spent like a hot summer day with the Losers, only it’s him and his soulmate instead. 

Only when he wakes up he’s intimately aware of how their arms had brushed against each other; how his soulmate’s hand had hovered over the small of his back, a warmth so hot Eddie swears he can feel it through his shirt even still the next day; the distorted yet contagious laugh that bubbles out of his soulmate’s mouth when Eddie manages to catch him off guard with a joke. 

It’s when he first wakes up that he feels sick. When he lets his mom’s acerbic voice leak into his head, _you’re sick Eddie, boys don’t touch other boys, you’re sick and you need to get better._

It’s usually not until he’s biking to school alongside Richie and Bill that the voice fades out, his mind distracted by Richie’s vulgar impressions and the plans the three of them want to make with the rest of their friends that weekend. And by the time he’s drifting off to sleep, the voice is entirely gone, his excitement over meeting up with his soulmate overriding any lingering fears. 

A soft shove sends him out of his thoughts, his soulmate having caught up to him. 

“Anyone in there?” A light tap on the top of his head. 

“Shut up,” he says, no real heat behind it. He thinks his soulmate smirks. 

“Come on, let’s head toward the woods.” _The Barrens,_ Eddie’s mind supplies. 

A grin forms on Eddie’s face. “Race you?” 

The other boy lets out a whine. “But I only just caught up to you.” 

Eddie teases, “What, don’t think you can beat me?”

“Oh, I know I can’t. You could be an Olympian despite those short legs of yours.” 

Eddie huffs indignantly, ready to defend himself, but before he knows it his soulmate is taking off, a hysterical laugh reaching Eddie as he himself sputters. He takes off, his legs working hard to reach up to him until (rather quickly) he has, and then he’s overtaking him. 

That’s another thing Eddie loves about these dreams. He can run. No fears of asthma or some other condition he doesn’t have sending his brain into an anxiety-riddled overdrive. No mother shrieking behind him, shoving an inhaler into his mouth. He can just take off, legs kicking behind him as his lungs fill in and out with air, breath unlabored. 

He slows down to look back, sees his soulmate jogging behind him and Eddie knows he’s smiling. He can’t see it but he just knows. 

“Eddie.”

He stumbles mid-step, nearly falling as he hears his name. Only it’s not a guy’s voice it’s—

“Eddie. Eddie-bear, time to wake up.” The voice is saccharine sweet and right in his face as his eyes slowly blink open, bogged down by sleep. 

Sonia Kaspbrak is leaning over him, a warm, fleshy hand reaching out for his forehead before Eddie can process what’s happening. 

“You feel a bit warm, are you feeling okay sweetie? You seemed restless and didn’t wake up when I called.” She’s pouting at him, an undeniable gleam of happiness lying underneath, waiting for him to wail out, crying for his mommy’s help.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, still feeling the fatigue behind his eyes. 

“If you don’t feel well honey you can always stay home with me and—“

“I said I’m fine mom. I’m going to school.”

He sees her lips purse, her face looking like she’d eaten something sour, knows he’ll have to do something to make up for this misstep later. For now he just gets out of bed quickly, making his way around her where she’s still rooted to the spot, and to the bathroom. 

His stomach is roiling as he thinks back on the smile he thought he’d seen before waking. 

—

Eddie can hear voices around the corner as he nears it. He pumps his legs harder, sending his bike around the curve, and spots Bill and Richie a few yards away, legs on the ground in place of their actual kickstands. 

“Well it’s about damn time,” Richie whoops out when he spots Eddie making his way over. 

“Shut up Richie.”

“C-come on guys, we d-don’t want to be late.”

“Well I wanna be late,” Richie rattles off as he and Bill get back on their bikes. “Eds and I have a test in first.”

“We do?” 

“Yep,” Richie says, popping the p. “You can copy off me if you need to.”

“Thanks Rich.”

When the three finally pedal up to Derry High, they easily spot their other friends waiting for them by the bike racks. 

They all hang around there until the first bell goes off and Eddie and Richie are headed down the science wing, the rest of them off to their own first classes. 

Richie was right, they do have a test in first period and Eddie does have to copy off him. Eddie gets decent grades, enough to keep his mom off of his back, but physics had never been his thing. Richie had tried tutoring him in it once, but they’d pretty much wasted the whole time goofing off, so Eddie had resigned himself to the fact that a C was the best he was gonna get in the class. 

The rest of the morning goes by pretty quickly. Eddie has at least one friend in each of his classes, so between the hushed conversations and the droning of his teachers, it’s pretty easy to keep his mind off of last night. Not that he had much to think about. It just wouldn’t do to be seen daydreaming, especially around the other Losers who would for sure ask what was going on in Eddie’s head. 

As close as the seven of them are, they all respected each other’s privacy when it came to dreams. Even Richie, resident trashmouth, had been surprisingly mum about the topic their whole friendship. Sure, a few tidbits had been shared about their dreams: whether they took place in Derry or not (he and Richie stood firmly in the ‘yes’ pile, Ben, Bev, Mike, and Bill in the ‘sometimes’ and Stan in the ‘never’), what time of day it was. Just random bits of information that they couldn’t help but share. But never things that were said or done. 

Sometimes Bev would muse about what her soulmate looked like, the only one brave enough to mention aloud what they’d all wondered, and they would listen patiently until she had snapped out of it with a blush, or Richie had ruined it by saying his soulmate looked like Eddie’s mom. 

He knows that his friends would want to help him with any problems he was having, but even still, he doesn’t want them getting the idea that something about his dreams is wrong. 

He and Bev are headed to the cafeteria from their English class when Stan catches up to them. The three sidle into the lunch line, sharing looks over the mystery meal being served today. 

“How’d you do on the Physics test Eddie?” Stan asks. 

He can feel his face heating. “I had to cheat off Richie.” 

Stan just nods, used to this between the two boys. 

“If you need to know what’s on it before class, I’d ask Richie, he probably remembers.”

Bev and Stan both give him a look, knowing full well that Eddie knows Richie will have already forgotten, giving Stan some half-remembered questions that end up not being close to anything on the test. 

When they have their food, they make their way over to their usual table, Bill, Ben, Mike, and Richie already there. 

Eddie takes a seat next to Bill and across from Mike, ignoring the pout Richie adopts until Bev sits next to him a second later. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Ten minutes into lunch Bev turns to Richie, her voice loud enough that the rest of their attention is caught, despite being in their own conversations. “So Richie.”

“So Bev,” he replies, eyelashes fluttering comically at her. 

“Your birthday’s next weekend.”

He looks down at his tray for a moment, fingers nervously fiddling with his chocolate milk carton before he looks back up at her, looking nothing but pleased. 

“So it is.”

“W-what do you w-want to do Richie?” Bill asks. 

He leers at Bill, a sharp, toothy grin on his face, “If I’ve told you once Bill I’ve told you a thousand times—“

“Hookers and blow,” Eddie says dryly, “we know Richie.” Richie’s grin turns softer as Eddie speaks. 

“But one, that’s gross,” Bev says. “And two—“

“We live in Derry,” Ben finishes, innocently. 

“There’s always the barn,” Mike supplies. The last few birthdays had been spent in Mike’s barn—the one with tools and equipment, not animals. Usually they just watched movies on an old tv that they’d manage to rig up out there, sleeping bags piled around on the dusty floor, pizza and, more recently, beer shared between them until, one by one, they passed out. 

Richie pretends to think on it. “Yeah, that works.”

It’s all settled then, a normal night in with each other to celebrate the first of their group’s 18th birthday. It’s like there’s a weird weight between them all all of a sudden, each of them glancing around the table nervously as it hits them. 

Until Richie interrupts with, “If I can’t have hookers Eds, will you at least be doing a strip tease?” 

—

Eddie can tell something is wrong. His soulmate’s been fidgety all night, stumbling around their dream like he isn’t paying attention. 

“Are you alright?” He finally asks, sick of the weird silence between them. 

They’re sitting on the banks of the Quarry, neither having made a move to get in like they normally would. 

“Yeah, m’fine, why wouldn’t I be?” He tacks on a laugh at the end, a choked, sad sounding thing. 

Eddie shrugs, eyes narrowed as he looks out at the water, the artificial sunlight reflecting off its surface and burning at his eyes. 

He takes a deep breath, stomach rocking uncomfortably. He can feel the other boy’s eyes on his profile before he even starts to speak. 

“Is it because…. because we’re both…” He stops himself, not wanting to finish. He turns to look at his soulmate now, hoping he’ll say the word for him, but is met with nothing. Just a blurred-out shape that he knows is facing him, but what with? Anger? Sadness? Fear? 

Suddenly Eddie wants to say it. He’s scared and nervous and knows he’ll regret it in the morning, but he’ll be 18 soon, he can’t hide from this forever. Maybe he doesn’t want to. 

“Boys?” The word comes out softer than he intends. 

It hangs in the air awkwardly, his soulmate shifting a bit where he sits. When he speaks, it’s like he hadn’t heard it at all. 

“It’s almost my birthday.” 

Eddie blinks in surprise. Sure, they’d known each other’s ages since they’d first met, had known that with each year they were both getting closer and closer to _the_ year—hell, Eddie’s was right around the corner next month—but they had never let the other know when it was. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

They stare at each other for a few minutes, neither able to see what the other one’s face is saying, but both pretty familiar with the other’s body language by now: _he’s nervous_ one thinks, _he’s anxious,_ thinks the other. Both desperately wanting to read the other’s face but scared at the idea of being able to; of seeing the distinctly male features that would look back at them. 

Eddie suddenly sees his soulmate’s hand reaching out, feels the warmth of it over his own a second later. 

He stares down at it for a while, the joining of their two hands: one clear as day, the other one a hazy blur of skin, indistinct. He lets his muscles slowly untense, turns his gaze back out to the gentle rock of water in front of them. 

They sit like that for the rest of their dream. 

—

The next afternoon he and Richie are in the old video store, fighting over what to watch. 

“But it’s _my birthday_.” 

“You’ve seen _Silence of the Lambs_ a million times Richie!”

“And now I can see it a million and one.”

“Fine, but if you get that then we’re also getting _Back to the Future II._ ”

Richie scoffs. “We always watch those movies. You only like them because Bev lied and said you look like Michael J. Fox.”

Eddie’s face burns. “The _Back to the Future_ movies are way better than _Silence of the Lambs_!”

“Not the third one, the third one sucks.”

“Yeah, the third one does suck,” he agrees easily. 

They pick up two more titles, Richie reluctantly allowing Eddie to add _Back to the Future II_ to the pile on the counter. Eddie grins smugly at him as the cashier rings them up. 

Suddenly Richie’s mouth is right by his ear, his tall frame leaning down to reach, hot breath making Eddie squirm and try to pull away. 

“You know Bev only said you look like him because you’re both short, right?” 

Eddie rears his head back, ready to chew Richie out, but he’s already running out of the store where their friends are waiting, childish snickers filling the place as he does so. Eddie’s stuck in there, at the mercy of the cashier who’s moving at a glacial pace. 

When he finally leaves, shopping bag on his wrist, scowl on his face, Richie is cowering behind Ben. 

Eddie glares at him. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday Trashmouth.” 

Richie takes this to mean he’s safe to move out from behind Ben, who wears an amused look. 

“Don’t worry Eddie,” Bev coos, “I didn’t just say it because you’re both small.” 

Eddie lets out a loud dramatic groan, makes his way over to his bike and hangs the plastic shopping bag on the handles before he gets on. 

He’s just about to start pedaling when he looks back at his friends, all looking fit to burst with laughter. “Are you losers coming or what?” 

That sets them into motion, each moving to their bike, Mike and Stan’s own handlebars carrying bags of junk food. Mike has an old pickup truck, mostly used for work on the farm, but also to get him to school. They planned to use it to pick up the pizza later, but for now they had all wanted to bike into town.

They’d all be 18 soon. Hearing back from colleges, making plans to split up, moving to other parts of the country. Eddie liked to think of their bike rides as their last vestiges of childhood, something they’d no longer have in just a few months as their group is torn apart. 

Sure, he could always ride his bike in his dreams. They’re set in Derry, everything the same as it is here, down to the summer weather. He never had though. He shares his dreams with his soulmate. The Losers are different. They know the ins-and-outs of him, down to his very core; had seen him at his worst and his best. Eddie likes to think they’re his soulmates too, only in a different kind of way. And sure, maybe his soulmate will know him that way one day too. But for now, these bike rides are for them, he isn’t ready to share them. 

He thinks that’s all probably pretty silly. To his friends, these are probably just that: bike rides. A means of transport. But as they all make their way down the long dirt road to Mike’s place, laughter billowing in the air around them, voices reaching each other’s ears—voices they know they recognize down to their bones—he thinks they all might feel that way, just a little bit. 

—

They’re halfway through the fourth box of pizza—a Supreme, even though nobody in their group likes all of the toppings—hands sticky with grease and sugar, mouths bitter with the taste of the alcohol that they’d collectively been able to swindle from parents’ liquor cabinets and fridges. 

Stan and Ben have both nodded off in their sleeping bags and Bev’s well on her way, head dropping down every few minutes from where it’s propped up on her hand as she attempts to finish the movie. Mike and Bill have their sleeping bags parallel to each other, on the opposite side of the barn from Eddie and Richie. Their heads are bent low as they whisper to each other, Eddie unable to hear them over the ominous music coming from the tv’s speakers. 

“What do you think they’re whispering about,” he whispers to Richie, not turning to look at him. 

He feels movement beside him as Richie shrugs. “Dunno.” 

Eddie frowns at the disinterest in his voice, turns to look at him. 

Richie’s glasses are sliding off his nose, his eyes on the tv but they’re clearly unfocused. They’re both sitting up in their sleeping bags and Eddie glances down to see both of Richie’s hands on top of his own nylon cover, right hand picking harshly at the nail beds of his left. 

“You okay Rich?” Eddie can’t help the concern that leaks into his voice. He worries that Richie’s going to make fun of him for it, shrug him off like something clearly isn’t bothering. 

Richie looks at him now, teeth biting into his bottom lip. Eddie winces when he notices it’s bright red and raw, like he’d been doing it for some time now. 

Richie sends him a wobbly smile. “M’fine Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie doesn’t bother to correct him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” The grin turns surer now, his fingers stop their picking and his mouth shuts closed as he realizes Eddie had been picking up on his body language. 

“It’s okay to be nervous you know.” 

Richie just blinks back at him. 

“About tonight? It’s okay to be nervous about seeing them.” 

Richie rolls his eyes, chuckles. “Why would I be nervous, Eds? I already know who I’m gonna see.” 

That surprises Eddie. He didn’t think any of the Losers had any idea who their soulmates were. He feels his stomach churn, his pizza along with the half bottle of beer he’d had before switching over to Coke looking to make a reappearance.

“Yeah?” He tries to keep his tone light. “Who?”

Richie sends a sweet, toothy smile at Eddie. “Your mom.” 

Eddie’s hurling a pillow at Richie’s face in seconds, grabbing Richie’s own and lunging toward him with it when his aim fails him. Richie, distracted by his own laughter, emits a loud “Oof” sound when it hits, his body falling backward onto the tarp they’d laid beneath their sleeping bags, his glasses flying to the right of him. Eddie’s pushing the pillow down onto his face, light enough so Richie can still breathe, but with enough of his own weight leaning into it that Richie has to grab onto Eddie’s side and use all of his momentum to push him off, only he must use more force than he intended because suddenly their positions are flipped, Eddie’s head thudding down onto the sleeping bag behind him, Richie’s heavy body on his own, knocking the wind out of him. 

Richie’s laughter combines with Eddie’s own giggles until someone shushes them, loudly. Eddie covers his own mouth with his hand, hiccups into it, and nearly busts out into more laughter while Richie bites into his own fist. 

Their laughter dies down and Eddie looks behind them from his upside-down position, sees all of the Losers are tucked into their sleeping bags, just the occasional restless stirring to show they’d woken anyone up. When he turns back Richie is smiling down at him, squinting without the aid of his glasses. Eddie feels a smile growing on his own face, his cheeks flushed with excitement and his heart thundering in his chest. He feels like he ran a marathon. 

Richie’s smile fades a bit as he clears his throat. He lifts himself off Eddie and plops back on his own sleeping bag, reaching for the pillow Eddie had just been suffocating him with. 

Eddie sits still for a minute, waits for his heart to calm down before he gets up and grabs his pillow from where it had landed by the tv stand. He gets Richie’s glasses from where they had landed too and puts them on the stand, just to make sure nobody steps on them in the middle of the night. 

When he sits back down Richie is already curled up inside his sleeping bag, tousled hair shining darkly against his pillowcase in the light of the tv. 

Eddie lays down, about to try and get some sleep himself, when he hears Richie send a nervous “Goodnight” his way. He whispers it back. 

He feels almost nervous for Richie. He can’t imagine how he’ll feel on the night of his own 18th birthday. Richie had been uncharacteristically subdued all night, trying to act calm and collected in front of them all but Eddie could tell just how anxious he was. 

God, he’s going to learn who his soulmate is. Eddie suddenly feels sick again, wishing he could step out of the barn to feel the cool October air against his skin without risking waking someone up. 

Richie was going to find his _soulmate._ They all were eventually, Eddie knows that, but Richie was going to be first. What if he decided to go meet her right away? What if they hit it off immediately? He knows that’s how soulmates are meant to work; you’re supposed to want to be with them, they’re your other half. 

But what if, when they all are making their decisions on where to go after high school, Richie cuts in with a, “Well Sally and I plan on going out west and we’ll move in together immediately, both with our 9 to 5 jobs, and maybe we’ll adopt a dog, something small and yippy that’s more territorial than it has any right being. After 2.5 years I’ll propose to her at our favorite restaurant after our entree but right before dessert and she’ll cry, and I’ll tear up a respectable amount. We’ll get married in a church even though neither of us is particularly religious, but her family is and they’ll be so happy for us. Just five months after the wedding we’ll announce that we’re expecting. We’ll move into a lovely 3 bedroom, 2 bath and make our mortgage payments on time because, as I said, we’ll have steady 9 to 5s. Baby number 2 will be less than a year after baby number 1–one boy and one girl of course—so that they’re close enough in age to be the best of friends. We’ll spend our entire life on the west coast despite most of you, Eddie included, planning to stay on the east coast, only checking in on each other with an annual call around the holidays.”

Eddie feels like puking, has to take slow, measured breaths, while he grips onto the edge of his sleeping bag with clammy hands. He shakes his head, confused as to where _that_ had come from. He could never see Richie living a life like that. No, his soulmate will laugh at his jokes and have the same sense of adventure; will find video games more fun than fancy dinners out and be able to choke down just as many slices of greasy pizza as Richie can. 

Richie will be fine, no matter what girl he sees in his dreams tonight. 

Still, that thought doesn’t make Eddie feel any better as he drifts off to sleep. 

—

Soon after Eddie’s eyes close he opens them again to see that he’s in his bed. 

He blinks, hard this time, but when he opens them again he’s still there, sun shining brightly in his second-story window, bouncing off of the walls and creating dancing movement on the wood floor. 

He knows he’s dreaming, has to be. He’d gone to sleep in Mike’s barn, he can’t have woken up at home. 

But he’s never shared a dream in his own house. Had never really wanted to and didn’t see how his soulmate would ever want to. Usually they find each other in these dreams, quickly moving toward each other like beacons no matter who had gone to sleep first. 

As if on cue he hears creaking on the stairs outside of his closed bedroom door. The steps pause when they reach the top, the person on the other side shifting outside the door in hesitation. The doorknob begins to turn, and Eddie finds his heart is fluttering in fear but he’s not sure why. It could only be one person on the other side of that door. 

When it opens all the way, the blurry figure just stands there, not making a sound. Eddie fidgets under his sheets, makes a move to get up but the figure flinches. 

Eddie frowns. “Hey.”

A second before, “Hey.” It sounds thick and is followed with a quick throat clearing sound. 

Eddie gets up and out of bed and this time the boy doesn’t move. Eddie walks a little bit closer, a small smile on his face when he thinks his soulmate has relaxed. 

He hears the soft breath of a sigh released between them. 

“This is my bedroom,” Eddie says, curiosity laced in the words. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “That’s weird, isn’t it?” 

The figure shrugs. “I couldn’t find you anywhere outside so...so I looked here.” 

Eddie accepts it quickly—like he said, a beacon—grabbing for the boy’s hand and leading them out of his doorway. He’d rather not waste their time in this house. 

They stroll the streets of Derry, hands still clasped. Eddie had gone to let go when they exited his house, but his soulmate had only tightened his grip. 

They’re moving toward The Barrens, both in sync without even mentioning to the other where they plan to go. By the time they get there, the midday sun has risen, time moving more quickly in this dream. Eddie drops the hand from his, moving toward a strip of grass and settling down in it. He sits with his eyes closed, letting himself soak up the sun. It’s getting cold in Derry; winter will be on them soon. 

A moment later he hears the rustle of grass and a _thunk_ next to him. Soon they’re laying down on their backs, looking up at the sky together as the clouds morph and shape before them, manipulated by their combined minds. 

They laugh and talk, joke and rib each other, and all of the weirdness from when he’d first awoken is gone. When he turns to sneak a peek at his soulmate, sure that he’d still be facing skyward, his eyes are already on Eddie. 

—

When Eddie wakes up—really wakes up—he doesn’t feel the usual guilt that accompanies a night like that. He feels happy. 

The others are slowly coming to life around him, Ben and Stan the first to rise as they were the first to sleep, Bev mumbling something about needing to make Richie a birthday breakfast. 

Eddie glances to his side and sees Richie’s still deep in sleep, his lips parted slightly, his forehead creased. 

_Must be a good dream if he’s still asleep._

Eddie shakes the thought—and sleep—from his head, joining Bev as she rounds the rest of them up to quietly creep out of the barn and into Mike’s kitchen. 

The six of them cram themselves inside and the room becomes a flurry of activity, pancakes being whipped up along with bacon. A mess of batter and cracked eggs quickly forms around them and Stan follows up behind everyone with a rag. Their laughter fills the Hanlon kitchen. 

When everything is done, all of them feeling rather proud of themselves, Eddie gets plates out. 

“M-make sure y-you pile Richie’s up Eddie.” 

Eddie, already in the middle of doing so, adds a few more pieces of bacon to the pile. 

“Wait,” Stan stops them all, his empty hand landing on the door to make sure nobody leaves. When he feels all of their eyes firmly on him, “We need to make sure we all don’t pile in on Richie about his dream.”

They all nod, knowing that Richie might get spooked with their prying questions. 

Bev is bouncing on the balls of her feet. “But we’re still going to ask, right?”

"Oh of course,” Stan assures. 

They head back over to the barn, Eddie’s plate balanced in one of his hands, Richie’s heavier plate in the other. 

They try to creep back in, but all give it up when they see Richie inside, shoving his glasses onto his face. 

“Surprise!” They chorus out. 

“After birthday breakfast!” Mike exclaims. 

Richie, now with his glasses firmly on his face, grins at them all, plopping back down on his sleeping bag, making grabby hands in the air. “Where’s my plate?”

Eddie rolls his eyes good naturedly, pushing to the front of the group and making his way toward Richie. Richie’s smile immediately drops along with his hands when he sees Eddie moving toward him, causing Eddie to trip up at the sudden change in emotions. 

Richie plasters a tight smile back on his face. “Thanks Eds.”

Eddie finishes making his way over and Richie swipes the plate, avoiding his eyes. He starts to dig in, the other Losers cautiously making their way to their own spots and starting to eat. Eddie hesitates a moment before settling in by Richie, notices the tense hunch to his shoulders. 

Chatter fills the air around them, Richie slowly coming back to himself as he makes crude jokes and Eddie figures maybe he was just shaken by his dream last night, hadn’t meant to act so strange toward him. 

He’s finishing his last bite of pancake, grimacing at the sticky syrup that has somehow managed to get on his arm, when he feels eyes on him. He looks up to see Richie peering at him through thick lenses, face beet red in the stuffy barn heat. 

“Is something on my face?” Eddie swipes at it, frowning when the corner of Richie’s mouth quirks up. 

Before he can say anything, Bev asks, faux-casual, “So Richie, how did your dream go?”

The other Losers are looking in their direction with wide, questioning eyes, all glad Bev had asked what they’d all been wanting to know. Eddie supposes he should feel the same but instead he feels kind of sick, recalling what he’d thought right before bed last night. 

He sees Richie gulp out of the corner of his eye, can’t find it in himself to watch as Richie tells them about his soulmate. 

Instead all they get from him is, “It was fine,” accompanied by a shrug before he crams his last piece of bacon in his mouth, the crunching sound echoing in the silence between them all. 

Glances are exchanged between them all before the barn breaks out into noise, each Loser trying to get their question in while Richie continues chewing and Eddie continues sitting there frozen.

Finally, Richie finishes off his bacon, holding his hands up to silence them all. “You guys really want to know how it was?” 

The other five nod enthusiastically, Bev letting out a “duh” while Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and nods weakly. 

Richie lets out a long heavy breath. “It was…,” he stops, chewing on his lip again as he had last night. A smile creeps onto his face and he looks off, as if lost in thought. 

“Richie!” Stan blurts out in impatience, surprising even himself. 

“It was Eddie’s mom.” There’s silence once again before pillows go flying toward Richie from all directions, some grazing Eddie as they reach their destination. Eddie halfheartedly joins in, adding his own pillow to the fray as Richie tries to dodge them. 

They don’t question him anymore after that, all taking the hint that Richie doesn’t want to talk about it, not yet at least. They make plans to go to the Quarry, to take advantage of the last of the year’s warmth before it’ll be too cold to go into the water. Eddie feigns a headache halfway through the day, insists that they all stay in the water, he’ll bike back by himself. 

They shout their “goodbyes” and “feel betters” to him, all but Richie who had ducked down below the water right as Eddie was making his way out. 

He bikes home slowly, water dripping off his lower half while his shirt sticks to his wet torso like a second skin. They had brought towels, but Eddie knew the sun would dry him off soon enough. 

Eddie feels guilty, but this time it’s not because of a dream. He hates to admit it even to himself, but when Richie had started to say his name—before he followed it up with “mom”—his stomach had started doing somersaults and his heart was beating a race horse’s rhythm; for that split second be thought Richie was going to say just his name. 

But that would have been bad, no matter what confused signals his body was sending him. It was bad enough his soulmate was a boy—that couldn’t be helped, he knew that. But to actually want Richie to be the one he saw…. that was just wrong of him. 

He starts to pedal faster, wanting to take a shower and get the dirty Quarry water out of his hair before his mom comes home from her weekend errands. 

He bounds upstairs and stops at the top step, the similarities to last night’s dream hitting him as he stands where his soulmate had. 

He can’t help but smile softly, then shakes his head to clear it. 

He’ll go to school tomorrow and everything will be normal. Eventually Richie will tell them all about the girl in his dreams and Eddie will be happy for him. Truly. 

—

Things aren’t normal. For that whole week in fact. 

At night he goes to bed and meets up with his soulmate, more locations from Derry featuring each night. It’s weird but Eddie’s started feeling even closer to him after that dream that had started in his room. Like he and his soulmate are both trying to get closer, caught up in a game of chicken, waiting for the other to pull away. Only Eddie hadn’t been and neither had the other boy. 

But after those nights that feel less and less wrong and more and more hopeful, he wakes up and goes to school where Richie acts weirder toward him each day. At first he thinks that maybe he’s still shaken over his dream, doesn’t want them all prying. But then he starts falling back into routines with the others, laughing and joking around. Eddie’s the only one he’s still not being normal around; no ‘Eds’ or ‘Eddie Spaghetti’, no more of the usual touchiness between the two (and okay, maybe he predicted that part), no more riding his bike over to Eddie’s after school to hang out for a few hours before Mrs. Kaspbrak gets home. 

It’s only been a week, but Eddie can’t help but get upset, says as much to Beverly one day when they’re working on their English project in class. 

She shifts her eyes away from his when he says this, focuses on the worksheet in front of her. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing Eddie.”

He huffs. “It doesn’t feel like nothing.” When she doesn’t respond, “Richie’s never done this before, not to me.” It comes out as a whine. 

“Look, Richie’s just going through a lot right now, I’m sure he’ll come around.” She gives him a hopeful smile, which quickly falls at the accusing look on his face. “What?”

“So he told you something then.”

“What do you mean Eddie?”

“He obviously told you what’s wrong. You said he has a lot going on right now, how else would you know that?”

Bev laughs nervously. “I mean, he just turned 18, of course he has a lot going on.” 

Eddie frowns, shaking her words off. “Well clearly I’m part of the problem. _I’m_ the one he’s acting weird toward.” 

Beverly sighs. “Eddie…” 

Eddie ignores her, trying to focus on his worksheet instead, and she reluctantly turns back to her own, allowing the quiet between them until the bell rings and she tries once more. But Eddie’s already packed up, racing off to the lunch room. 

When he gets there everyone but Stan and Bev are already sitting down with their food. Eddie and Bev’s English class and Stan’s History class are both further than the classes the others had come from so he’s usually much later to the lunch room. But not today. He’d all but barreled people over on his way. 

They all look up at Eddie as he moves to stand by the end of the table, surprise registering at his tightly wound posture and the grimace on his face. 

“Woah there, you constipated or something?” Richie jokes. 

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” He winces at the shrill sound of his voice. 

Richie scoffs. “What are you talking about?” 

Eddie feels himself bristle in anger at the casualness of Richie’s tone. He _knows_ that Richie’s trying to pretend everything’s fine. He’s about to say just that when he feels a gentle hand on his arm. He looks to see Bev, wide eyes on him, silently telling him to stand down. Stan stands behind her, confused. 

Then Bill chimes in. “You know y-you have been weird to Eddie l-l-lately.” He frowns, a furrow forming between his brow as he tries to make sense of the last week. 

“Bill!” Beverly says sharply. 

Richie glares at him. “No I haven’t,” he grits out. 

“Yes you have,” both Bill and Eddie say, the latter with more heat behind it. 

“And obviously you told Beverly why.”

Richie looks at Bev, bewildered. “You told him?”

“Richie, no—“

“Told me _what_?”

Everyone’s eyes are darting around the table, some full of confusion, others with anger. 

“Look,” Eddie huffs out. “Clearly I’ve done something to make you mad—“

“Eddie I told you, it’s just birthday stuff,” Beverly says, still trying to make her excuse work. 

“Wait, what do you know about birthday stuff?” Stan asks, confused. Everyone looks to him, still standing behind Bev, eyes narrowed as he tries to work something out. “Did you tell Beverly about your soulmate?” He sounds put-out, a bit indignant, but not nearly as much as Eddie does when he whirls back around and, 

“You told Bev but not me?” There’s anger in Eddie’s voice, hopefully enough to hide the hurt but he sees Richie wince and knows it didn’t. 

Richie doesn’t answer, his face turning red under everyone’s eyes. 

Eddie feels his eyes burn, an embarrassing result of his sudden anger, no doubt. 

He clears his throat. “Whatever, keep your secrets Richie.” 

He turns and walks away, ignores the calls of five of his friends, tries not to let the one missing voice bother him. 

If Richie had a problem with him, fine. He could work it out himself, Eddie had his own problems to deal with without adding Richie’s sudden attitude to them. And if he wanted to cozy up to Bev and let her know everything that was wrong—things he would have been fine telling Eddie just weeks ago—then fine!

It hits him so suddenly, Eddie almost trips over his own feet. 

Of course. It was the only thing that made sense. 

Richie and Bev must be soulmates. 

A part of him thinks that might be worse than Richie being mad at him for no reason. 

But if they were soulmates, why keep it a secret? It’s not like it would upset Bill. Any feelings between him and Beverly had fizzled out by freshman year.

 _It has to be because of Ben._ That still didn’t explain why Richie was being weird toward Eddie though.

His feet keep moving and he finds himself headed toward the doors of the decrepit school library. Before he can enter them though, he feels someone walk up next to him. 

“E-eddie.” It’s a slightly out of breath Bill. “You sure can walk fast for someone so short.” 

Eddie sends him a glare and is given a smile in return that makes Eddie soften. “Why’d you follow me Bill?”

“You’re right, R-richie’s been weird. To y-you I mean.”

Eddie purses his lips. “I think he and Bev are soulmates.”

Bill frowns, confusion on his face as he seems to think about it. Eventually he shakes his head. “I don’t think so. They’ve b-b-been fine to Ben.”

Eddie sighs, giving up the only theory he’d have. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Anyway, I’m also m-mad Richie only t-told Bev about his d-dream. We’re L-losers.” He says it like it’s an easy explanation, and for Eddie, it is. Even if they knew when to give each other space, they still told each other nearly everything. It hurt to feel like you were being purposely excluded. 

They both slide down the wall outside the library, sitting down on the cold floor. Eddie wants to muse more about why Richie could be mad, but Bill doesn’t let him, instead moves their conversation to video games and comic books, making plans with each other for after school. By the time the bell rings signaling the end of lunch, Eddie’s feeling a little better. Or at least enough to hold out ignoring Richie’s stares in their shared Calculus class. 

_It’s not like he’s going to say anything to me anyway,_ he thinks, slightly disturbed by his own moroseness. 

He has fun at Bill’s, even manages to get home before his mom, giving her little idea that he’d been out at a friend’s for most of the evening. 

When it’s time for bed he slips into sleep easily, more than eager to get lost in the dream-like Derry he’d created than the actual one. 

—

The stalemate continues into November, having reached each and every one of the Losers. Eddie hangs out with Bill the most, Richie obviously with Beverly. Stan has taken to being with Bill and Eddie or by himself, and Ben and Mike try to diplomatically divide their time. 

Eddie’s harshly reminded of that summer. The only time the group had been so divided. He hadn’t been there for the fight between Richie and Bill—no, his mother had made sure he was laid up in bed with his cast, only her to talk to—but he’d heard plenty about it. He hates being reminded of that summer, knows they all do and that the way this is playing out is hurting each one of them more deeply than they’ll let show.

But they continue sitting at different lunch tables, avoiding talking to each other in class (That one was hard for Eddie and Bev—they still had to work together. But after so many rebuffs on Eddie’s side, Bev now seemed more than happy to ignore him too) and making separate plans to hang out on the weekend. 

It’s a new Monday, another week to dread, only this week is different. This week is Eddie’s birthday. This Thursday, to be precise. 

All of the other problems barely reach his mind as he makes his way through classes that Monday. 

All he can think about is turning 18. He goes to bed feeling nauseous, has pleasant dreams, then wakes up feeling nauseous. He hasn’t mentioned it to his soulmate—hasn’t even gotten the nerve to ask if he’d turned 18 yet. 

Everything is going to change after Thursday. 

He makes his way to the lunch room alone, stands in line alone, and goes to sit with Bill where he and Stan are sitting, alone. Mike and Ben are at Richie’s table today. They’d been taking turns after finally giving up reasoning with their friends. 

Eddie feels guilt over that. He’s sure that Stan and Bill would have given this all up much sooner if Eddie wasn’t still holding out. It’s like his anger is fueling their own, only he doesn’t think he’s angry anymore, just hurt. 

He’s poking unenthusiastically at his food when Mike comes over to their table. Stan and Bill end their conversation, looking up at him with wariness, while Eddie continues looking down. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He glances up, sees Richie looking at him from the other table, and reverts his eyes elsewhere. 

“Yeah Mike?”

“Your birthday’s Thursday.” Eddie feels sick. 

“Yep.”

“We were all wondering what you wanted to do?”

Stan and Bill have their eyes on him. They were obviously part of this “all.” 

He shrugs. “Probably nothing. It’s a weekday, so I’m sure I won’t be allowed to do anything.” Sonia Kaspbrak almost never lets Eddie stay out late on weeknights, let alone spend the night at a friend’s house. Eddie had stood up to her when he was 13, but things hadn’t changed _that_ much. 

“Yeah but we can do something over the weekend!” Mike tries to add some levity to everything, fake punching Eddie’s shoulder. It pulls a reluctant laugh out of him. The shared glances between the other three boys doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

_Are they just holding back for my sake?_ The thought slithers into his mind, his head aching at the idea that his friends had all made up, and they're just waiting for Eddie to get over himself. 

“Sure, the five of us can do something.” 

Mike’s smile tightens as Eddie gives him the wrong answer. “Eddie.”

“Mike.” 

“Okay, well I’m sure we’ll all plan something.” He lets the overemphasized “all” hang in the air before returning back to his table. 

Eddie turns back to his food, feels Bill and Stan looking at him.

“What?”

They look at each other, each one urging the other to say something. 

Stan is the winner. Or loser, depending on how you look at it. “It’s been weeks Eddie.” 

“You don’t have to sit here just because I am,” he snaps. 

“Eddie—“ 

“No Bill, I’m serious. Did I ever say you had to, to ‘take sides’ here?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “No. So if you’re over it, that’s fine. But Richie’s still ignoring me and at this point I’m not going back until I get an apology.” 

He sits up straight, arms crossed while he looks at them expectantly. They share a look—one Eddie realizes too late he should be worried about—and pick their trays up at the same time, moving over to the _other_ table quickly. 

Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock. They had really just _left_ him. If they expected him to follow them they had another thing coming. 

He taps his fingers on the table, willing himself to not turn around and look where there’s, no doubt, six faces watching to see what he does. He wills himself to wait ten minutes at the very least. 

He barely makes five. When he finally sits down at the bench—safely away from Richie, beside Ben—Bev sends him a warm smile. 

“Hey Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grumbles back. 

Conversation continues, Eddie joining in occasionally, his mood picking up the longer he’s around his friends. When the lunch period is almost over, he sneaks a glance at Richie. What he sees surprises him. 

Richie had been contributing a quip every now and then, but Eddie hadn’t dared look at him. Now that he has, he notices that Richie looks sick; all pale skin and wild hair—wilder than usual—eyes absent of their usual gleam. He wonders if he looks just as bad or if this is something else. Part of the something that Richie won’t tell him. 

—

They’re at the movie theatre, messing around in the lobby. His soulmate slides down the bannister, nearly colliding with Eddie who’s standing at the bottom. Richie used to try and do that all of the time, only succeeding in getting them kicked out. 

Noticing his quietness, “You okay?”

Eddie shakes himself out of it, sends the boy a smile he can’t see. Or, Eddie doesn’t think he can see it—he still hasn’t asked. 

“I’m fine.” Silence fills the lobby, thick between them. “Okay, my friend and I are fighting.”

“Oh?” It sounds curious. They’ve never really talked about their outside life; the real one. They were content to keep things in here contained, untainted. 

“Yeah. He’s one of my best friends, so,” Eddie picks at the skin on his arm, “it’s been kind of weird.” More silence. Eddie moves to sit on the carpeted steps, his soulmate hovering over him. “He had his birthday and then all of a sudden just started ignoring me. He won’t even tell me what I did wrong!” He hates the whine to his voice. 

“That’s kind of shitty of him.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, it is.” The boy laughs and Eddie feels uncomfortable. It feels wrong to be talking about Richie to this boy. In more ways than one. He wants to change the subject. 

“Anyway, it’s almost my birthday.” It comes out in a rush, the words like a tongue twister. 

Without pause to try and decipher them, “When is it?” 

“This week. Thursday.” That comes out much slower, has trouble making it past Eddie’s lips. “Have you—” He licks his lips, squirms a bit from his spot on the steps. “Have you had yours yet?”

The other boy is perfectly still for a moment, then lowers himself to join Eddie. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” It comes out so quietly—Eddie’s surprised it came out at all. He feels faint. He manages to continue. “So, you can see me then.”

A shaky breath is let out into the space between them. “Yeah,” he repeats. 

Eddie nods, failing to rid himself of his lightheadedness. “Okay. So this, this is happening. And it’ll...it’ll keep happening Thursday.” 

A hand lands on his shoulder, makes him jump. The hand is pulled back in an instant, as if it had been burned. 

Eddie feels guilty. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” His soulmate clears his throat. “Want to go somewhere else?”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

They decide to race each other around Derry and Eddie finds himself realizing, for once, that his soulmate might have figured out somewhere in all of these years that he uses running to clear his head. 

He thinks maybe the idea of this boy knowing him—really knowing him—could be just as dangerous as seeing him. 

—

Eddie wakes up Thursday morning to the sound of his mother’s sickeningly sweet voice singing happy birthday to him. He rubs at his eyes, tries to get up out of bed but is trapped when she sits down on the covers. 

“My little Eddie,” she coos. “All grown up.” He thinks he sees tears in her eyes. “Oh, we are so lucky to have each other Eddie, don’t you know that?” She whispers it, exultance in her voice. “And for you, to have made it to 18 without any dreams. We are so lucky, Eddie, aren’t we?”

“Yes mommy.” The reply is automatic, ingrained in his psych, his mind’s defensive response. ‘The sooner we say these words the sooner this woman will be out of his face.’

After five more minutes of doting, she finally stands up from the bed, sends one more wide-eyed look Eddie’s way, and makes for the stairs. 

He sits at the edge of his bed now, wipes a hand over his face. After a moment of collecting himself he gets up, sets his jaw, and prepares for the day. 

—

Instead of meeting Richie and Bill this morning—as he had every other birthday, though not for the last couple of weeks—Mike picks him up for school. Eddie makes a mad dash for the truck, not chancing a glance behind him in case that was the moment Sonia Kaspbrak happened to look out the window and see her precious boy getting into a death trap with _that_ boy. 

Mike greets him with a genuine smile and a “Happy birthday.” They cruise along slowly to school, in no rush. 

When Mike parks the truck, they’re soon being swarmed by the other Losers, all greeting Eddie. Even Richie gives him a small smile and wishes him a happy birthday. Eddie tightens his lips, responds with a polite thank you. 

His friends try to make their classes together fun, but Eddie knows he isn’t doing a good job of keeping up the charade that he’s okay. Richie is sending him concerned looks all first period and by the time he makes it to third period English his heart is racing so fast he thinks he might have a heart attack. 

“Eddie, are you okay?” Bev is frowning at him, a hand reaching out to feel his forehead. He tries to dodge it, only succeeding in making his stomach lurch. 

“You don’t feel warm…”

“I’m fine.” He tries to smile at her, only grimaces instead. 

She pauses. “Is it about tonight?” 

He doesn’t want to answer in the affirmative, really tries his hardest not to, only he feels so burdened by this. By every dream he’s had; every movement and word he’s overanalyzed in the light of day; every touch he’s tried to blink away; by the sudden implosion of his and Richie’s friendship. 

So he nods. 

“Oh, Eddie.” She sends him a sad, watery smile. He doesn’t know how but she looks so understanding in that moment. As if she knows exactly what’s on his mind. Only she couldn’t. 

“It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do. Because I know that whoever you see tonight is going to be someone that loves you.” 

“Yeah?” 

She nods. “And we’ll be happy for you. All of us, I promise.”

He sends her a questioning look, but she doesn’t answer it, just looks him over once again. 

“I know it’s your birthday, but maybe you should go home. Get some rest.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’d have to call my mom and she’d totally freak out. Make me go to the hospital or something.”

Bev sends him a smirk. “You’re 18 today Eddie, you don’t need your mom to check you out.”

—

Bev is full of good ideas. He’ll have to tell her that next time he sees her. 

By the time his friends are all gathered in the cafeteria, asking after him, Eddie’s home and bundled in pajamas, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He watches some tv—the channels his mom never lets him watch at home—and makes sure to clean up every stray crumb and out of place dent in the couch cushions before he heads upstairs to take a nap. 

Getting to sleep is difficult; he doesn’t manage to do so until the school day is nearly over, but when he does sleep, it’s dreamless. 

He wakes up and sees his room is bathed in darkness. Squinting, he makes out the time on his alarm clock. 9:50. Way later than he’d wanted to sleep. There’s cold and flu medicine by his bedside table, along with a congealing bowl of soup. Eddie grimaces. His mom’s supposed medical knowledge didn’t appear to extend to food poisoning. 

It’s quiet downstairs, the hum of the tv just barely audible through Eddie’s closed door. His mom will be in bed or asleep on the couch by now, he knows, no matter how concerned she is that he’s sick. There’s probably an icebox cake in the fridge that she’ll guilt him into eating a slice of tomorrow. 

He sits in bed for a moment, willing the after-nap fatigue away. His mouth and brain both manage to feel fuzzy. 

He’ll have trouble getting to sleep tonight, no doubt. Part of him is relieved, wanting to put off the inevitable, while the other part of him—the one that manages to feel a little hope after each dream—is disappointed. 

_You really just need to rip the bandaid off,_ it whispers. 

He decides to pass the time reading comic books, turns on his bedside lamp and shuffles to the floor, lifting up his mattress and pulling out his recent stack of contraband. 

He recognizes some titles Richie had lent him a few weeks ago. 

He chooses one, settling back into bed, struggling to get comfortable against sweat dampened pillows. 

He’s halfway through the first one when he hears a tap on his window. His curtains are only partially drawn, a small crack in the middle where Eddie sees only darkness. 

He narrows his eyes, trying to make anything out. Fear steels into him for a moment before it’s quiet again and he lets himself relax. 

_You’re imagining things._ He rolls his eyes, laughs at himself before turning back to the page and—

There’s a scraping sound—something rubbing harshly against the glass—that sends Eddie’s comic flying and him to hit feet. 

Another tap and “Eddie.” 

It’s muffled through the glass, but the voice extinguishes the fear in seconds. 

Eddie stomps over—as loudly as he can without waking his mother downstairs—and draws the curtains fully. 

He glares at the figure perched on a tree branch just inches from the windowpane. 

“Open up.” 

He debates not opening for a moment, wonders what Richie would do if he just didn’t; finds that he can’t actually imagine. 

The window squeaks from disuse as he lifts it open. 

“Richie, what the _hell?_ ”

Richie just grins, lifting a knee to perch precariously on the windowsill, one hand reaching out for Eddie’s. Eddie rolls his eyes but complies, giving a tug on his hand as Richie uses his knees and Eddie’s own yank to propel the rest of his body through. 

He hasn’t done this in a few years on account of the miracle that is Eddie managing to convince his mom to let him stay out more on weekends. It’s clear that he’s rusty when he nearly falls on his face, the impact only being prevented by the grace of Eddie’s steadying hands reaching out. 

“Thanks.” He looks up, the smile faltering when he sees Eddie’s not falling into their usual pattern: where Richie thanks him for his help, Eddie ranting all the while about broken necks and curfews and his mom sleeping downstairs. Instead of this, Eddie’s just staring. 

“Happy birthday.”

“You said that this morning.” 

“Yeah well,” he shrugs, eyes drifting around the room as if anything had changed since he’d last been there. Aside from the thickening soup, they both know nothing had. “Is that chicken noodle?”

“Richie, why are you here?” Eddie doesn’t have time for this, not tonight. 

Richie brings his hand up to his face, picks at his lip, strumming it like an instrument. “Just wanted to check up on you. Bev told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“You could have called.”

They both know that isn’t true. 

“Look, Eddie—”

“Richie—”

They both speak at the same time then pause, trying to allow the other the first chance to start over. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything.” Richie actually looks contrite, a rare look on him. 

“Okay.” 

“Just okay?” He sounds confused. 

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t want to offer more, just wants things to be back to normal but they can’t be because, “Look, if you still won’t tell me what’s wrong then—”

“I will,” Richie rushes out. “I promise.”

Eddie waits, motioning at him when he doesn’t continue. “Go on.”

Richie winces. “Just, not tonight.”

“Richie—”

“I know, Eds, I know. But just trust me, okay?” Eddie already feels his resolve crumbling at the sad but hopeful look turned his way, his mind unwittingly preening at the return of the nickname. 

Richie reaches out, a large, warm hand resting on Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend Eddie, okay? I need you to know that.” 

Eddie’s startled by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah Rich, I— You’re mine too.” It sounds breathless even to his own ears. 

“I’m gonna go but,” Richie looks nervous, a look he’s worn a lot around Eddie recently. “Good luck tonight and I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pats Eddie awkwardly on the arm, hand lingering a moment longer than needed before he heads back over to the window again. 

He struggles getting back onto the tree, curses floating toward Eddie’s window that have him giggling. 

Eddie sits back on his bed, a smile still taking up his face. Things weren’t fixed, no, but they might be well on their way. 

Now Eddie just needs to tackle tonight. 

—

Eddie takes in his surroundings, immediately feeling both confused and comfortable. He’s in the clubhouse, sitting in the hammock. A home away from home. But why?

This makes even less sense than the dream that had started in his bedroom. 

Maybe his subconscious had recreated somewhere it knew he’d be comfortable.

He frowns. If he could get a headache in his dream he’d surely already have one. That makes sense, on a surface level, but why would his soulmate’s subconscious go along with it? This whole time actually, going along with their minds recreating Eddie’s hometown, the places he knew in and out. Why not places his soulmate was familiar with?

Before he can think any harder on it—perhaps even allow everything to click into place and figure it out for himself—he hears noise coming from above him. The door creaks open slowly, letting in more light than the dim battery-powered lamp near Eddie’s feet currently is. His heart is thumping in his chest, faster than any dream race of his had ever allowed. He quickly gets his legs out of the hammock, plants his feet on the ground so he’s facing outward and not falling back with the elasticity of the rope. 

There’s hesitation up top, almost like the person knows what’s about to happen. 

_You told him your birthday_ , Eddie thinks, _of course he knows. Things are about to change for you both._

Movement again, this time sending dirt toppling over the edge and into the clubhouse as a shoe finds its footing on the top rung of the ladder. Then another foot, both moving downward, exposing jean-clad legs, then a back covered in a dark tee, and, finally a head of messy black hair. Those feet make it all the way down the ground, plant themselves firmly, and stay there, with seemingly no intention of turning the body they belong to around. 

But Eddie doesn’t need them to. He knew who it was from the moment that first shoe touched the ladder, blood pounding in his ears at the recognition of that beat-up sneaker. He’d probably known when he was shown the clubhouse; his bedroom; probably even further back than that, something in him just knew. Didn’t want to but knew all the same. 

“Richie?” It comes softly but sounds loud in the empty space. 

He still hasn’t turned around, his back to Eddie, shoulders tense. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Richie,” he repeats, more of a statement this time. 

Richie turns toward him, eyes downcast, hands clenched. Eddie can tell that he’s ready to run. 

He stands up from the hammock, not even sure what he’s doing, and Richie shifts, as if spooked. 

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” Eddie’s confused, doesn’t know what to think. He hadn’t even allowed himself to entertain this idea, aside from that brief moment after Richie’s birthday dream. Their dream, he muses. 

Richie lets out a low laugh, devoid of humor. Eddie nearly flinches. “It’s me Eds. Ta-da.” Only he doesn’t sound happy about it, not at all. 

The way Richie is acting is so very different from the Richie he knows, and different still from the guy he’d been meeting in his dreams every night. 

He finally looks up at Eddie then, face the picture of calm but eyes glistening in the afternoon light still spilling from above. 

“So you knew?” He asks. “This whole time?” 

Richie shrugs, eyes roaming around the room now, refusing to meet Eddie’s. “It’s only been a month.” 

“But you didn’t tell me.” Eddie grits his teeth. “Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

Richie can’t help but look at him then, face flashing with distress. 

“Eddie, if I had told you…,” he lets his words trail off. 

Eddie feels his stomach twisting and turning with unease. He didn’t know if he was ready to handle the big reveal of his soulmate—to actually be facing the fact that it was a guy that would be looking back at him. It being Richie had almost been...a relief. He loves Richie, of course he does. And if he ignores every part of him—the parts that resemble the teachings of Sonia Kaspbrak—he knows he loves his soulmate. All of the time they’d spent together had been building up to this, building up their relationship until they could finally meet. 

But Richie had seen him first and said nothing. He clearly didn’t want Eddie to find out. To have to face Eddie. 

His emotions must show on his face because Richie’s stepping away from the ladder.

“It doesn’t have to…to _mean_ anything.” Eddie’s head shoots up. 

“What?”

Richie rushes to finish explaining. “It can be platonic.”

“Platonic,” Eddie repeats. 

Richie nods his head so quickly Eddie thinks he can hear his teeth clack together. “Yeah Eds. Best friends, right?” 

Eddie looks down. For the first time since these dreams had started, he thinks _I want to wake up. I want to wake up, please let me wake up._

Even at the height of his mom’s attempted indoctrination as a kid, no matter how bad he’d felt that he was spending his sleeping hours with a boy, he’d never thought that. Had always been too happy and full of life in his dreams for his mind to do that. 

He pastes a curt smile on his face. “Best friends.”

—

Eddie doesn’t bike with Richie and Bill to class tomorrow. He makes sure to leave earlier than usual, knowing he’ll be able to beat them and everyone else there by at least ten minutes. He doesn’t look Richie’s way in class, just keeps his head down and does his work. Doesn’t even risk a glance; fears that Richie wouldn’t even be looking at him. 

Bev doesn’t ask in English, just sends him halfhearted smiles. Of course she wouldn’t ask, she already knows. That’s what the big secret between her and Richie had been, right?

By the time they get to lunch though, the other 4 are on him with questions. He makes something up about a girl, only half hears what he’s saying. Claims that the dream had been too short for them to even discuss much. Ignores the disappointment in Bev’s eyes. Richie’s hand where it tightly grips his plastic fork. 

“W-well there’s always tonight right?” 

“Sure,” he mumbles. 

—

Eddie does whatever he can to postpone sleeping. He pretends to go to bed for his mother’s sake, makes a show of brushing his teeth and turning the light off, as if she could appear any moment, shrewdly questioning the dreams he’s running from. 

He lies in bed for hours, thinking of anything and everything that’s not Richie or Richie-related, pinching his arm sharply anytime he fails.

He has the vague memory of something he learned in school, training yourself out of or into doing something by associating it with something else, an action or a feeling. He doesn’t think he wants to start associating Richie with a pinch to his arm, so he stops not long after that thought hits him. 

Eddie knows he should feel cheated. A soulmate that doesn’t actually want to be a soulmate. Only that’s not what’s bothering him. Sure, he’d felt something… _more_ for the abstract idea of the guy in his dreams. A soulmate just for Eddie, one who would be there for him but would understand his need to not be smothered, who he could hang out with, just like the way they did in their dreams, only in real life. 

But that’s what Richie already is for Eddie. He understands him in a way that no soulmate dream could ever touch the surface of. Eddie didn’t need the dreams to know that his and Richie’s souls fit. 

But to have that all snatched away before Eddie could even reconcile that the two were the same person? That hurts. So if he’s not ready to go to face Richie yet, even in his dreams, then that’s his right, isn’t it?

—

Eddie wakes to sunlight streaming in his bedroom window. His clock reads 10. For a moment he feels a sense of deja vu, sure that in just a moment Richie will be standing just outside his door, gently opening it, only this time Eddie will see his face. 

But Eddie’s awake, actually awake. And he hadn’t dreamed. Which meant Richie must not have slept. Either that or he woke up right when Eddie was drifting off. 

He stretches his limbs out, stifles a yawn just as he attempts to stifle the ache in his chest. 

—

Eddie sluggishly pedals through Derry, making his way to Mike’s property. He hasn't seen his friends all day. They’d told him to stay in or go out, so long as he stayed away from Mike’s until the evening. He’d just spent it moping in his room. 

When he’s finally making his way through the last stretch of dirt road, the sun nearly finished with its descent, he can make out the sound of loud voices. He warily approaches the barn, hopping off his bike and leaving it in the pile with everybody else’s. As he rounds the corner and sees the inside, his mouth drops open in shock. 

“Shit,” Stan mumbles around the balloon he’s attempting to blow up, having seen him. 

Everyone looks his way. “Surprise!” It’s discordant, nobody in sync. Eddie smiles anyway, his stomach doing flops as he sees all of the effort they’d taken into transforming the barn into the 2015 of the future. Or the way it had been imagined in the movie at least. 

He has no idea where they got all of the supplies—a party shop maybe, but there isn’t one in Derry—but it’s perfect. 

Bill suddenly runs up to him, a crazed look in his eye. “Eddie! Great S-scott! We have to go b-back!”

Eddie laughs, playing along despite Bill’s butchered lines, “Where?”

“Back to the future!” Ben hollers out. 

They all laugh loudly at that, even Richie who, Eddie hates to have already noticed in such a short amount of time, is standing more subdued at the back of the group. 

Hands are suddenly grabbing onto him, pulling Eddie into the barn, smiling as he “oohs” and “ahhs” over the touches they’d put onto the place, even going as far as to driving Mike’s truck inside and piling hay around it, a shoddy but appreciated attempt at making it look like the DeLorean when Marty crashes it. 

Bev is soon dragging him over to their pile of sleeping bags, revealing that they’d ordered his favorite pizza and were going to have a _Back to the Future_ marathon, so get comfortable everyone. 

Everyone else gathers around, pulling food and drinks their way, except Richie, still hovering by the edge. Eddie can feel Bev staring at them, but he’s too caught up in examining Richie to check. 

His eyes have the slightest hint of a dark ring under them, a sign that he’d gotten less sleep than usual last night. His hair is tousled more than usual. His eyes shift under Eddie’s stare, but he stays rooted to the spot. 

Eddie suddenly remembers Richie’s birthday just last month. Richie had let him put on _Back to the Future II_ as their second movie of the night. Had catcalled exaggeratedly whenever Jennifer or Marty’s mom was on screen. Had laughed when Eddie squirmed during _Silence of the Lambs_ but then let Eddie grip onto his hand during the worst of it, without comment. The joining of their clammy skin feeling so familiar to Eddie, but he shrugged it off. Of course it did, Richie grabbed onto his hand all of the time. 

But it wasn’t just when they were awake. And he’d had a whole month to process what it meant that he was seeing Eddie at night and he still chose to hold his hand. 

Eddie chews on the inside of his lip, taking a chance as he nods his head in the direction of Richie’s sleeping bag set up by his own, like it always is. 

He can see Richie swallow, hard, tracks the movement of his throat. It’s only a second before he’s making his way over, casually throwing himself down next to Eddie. But he can feel the nervous energy between them, coming off both of their bodies. Mike pops the first movie in and Eddie can’t even focus on it, the sounds of Huey Lewis’ voice rushing past his ears might as well be gibberish for all that he’s listening to it, the bright ‘80s aesthetic of the film just flashing past his eyes as he sits, tense. From the corner of his eye, he sees Richie doing the same. 

Someone offers him a slice of pizza, chuckling when he reaches out for it blindly, thinking he’s too engrossed in the film. 

Richie is silent beside him, no crude jokes about Marty and his mother, no soft humming along to Earth Angel. They’re both wound tight, not knowing what’s going to happen: a talk, a friendly hug, a fight, something else. 

They take a break between the first and second film, Eddie using it to joke around and thank his friends for everything, his mouth on autopilot as his mind breaks down the hundreds of scenarios over what would happen if he just told Richie, just let him know, that it’s not meant to be platonic, not for him anyway. 

It’s after 11 when the second movie ends. Everything is quiet inside the barn except for the end credits rolling. Nearly everyone had dropped off into sleep but he and Richie, still wide awake, and Mike, who, from the looks of it, is well on his way. 

There’d been so many sleepovers like this over the years, Eddie and Richie the last ones awake, competing over who could stay up the latest. 

He dutifully gets up, changes the tape and starts the movie. When he sits back down, Richie’s watching him, braver in the dark with his friends sleeping than he had been before. Eddie understands, feels the same way. 

“Bet I can stay up later than you.” He doesn’t even think about it, his mouth just spilling out some of his most recent thoughts. 

Richie cracks a smile that has Eddie’s pulse rushing. 

“Probably.” He yawns, perfectly on time. “This movie’s gonna put me to sleep.” 

Eddie faces the screen, sees the familiar opening scene. Chances it with a, “Or because you didn’t sleep last night.”

Richie stills. Eddie says no more, just settles back down, getting prepared for when he inevitably nods off himself. If Richie doesn’t want to talk now, that’s fine, he’ll have to talk once he falls asleep. He’s determined for them to talk about this, no matter the outcome. 

“You’re right, I didn’t.” 

Eddie stops mid-movement, slowly rolling over onto his side to face Richie. Richie lays back and does the same. 

“Why not?” His voice nearly cracks in his attempt to get it out quietly. 

Richie pauses so long, Eddie’s sure he’s done talking. But then, “You looked scared. When you saw it was me.”

Eddie had been scared, sure. But more about what it meant that Richie wanted to be platonic soulmates than anything else. He knows he needs to say as much, but before he can Richie’s speaking again. 

“I know how scared you were when we were kids. I know what your mom used to say. Still says.” He chews on his lip a moment. Eddie waits for him to continue. “I had my own problems with it and I could tell when the things your mom said finally clicked with you but...but things didn’t change between us. Outside or in there. And the longer it went on, the longer I let myself think about who it was I was hanging out with every night. I started—” He almost stops there, voice breaking off. “I started hoping maybe it was you. I mean, we were in Derry night after night. But eventually even that didn’t matter. It had to be you, who else could it be?” He sniffles a little, a loud sound nearly overtaking that of the tv. 

“But when I actually saw it was you, I freaked. Because this whole time I didn’t think about how you would feel seeing it was me. And time was counting down and then you were mad at me and I don’t know Eddie, it was all just so fucked.” 

Eddie finally opens his mouth, sensing that Richie doesn’t want to go on. “I wasn’t scared.” Richie raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, I was, but not why you think. I was scared because I thought you were mad about it.”

“Why would I be mad about it?” Richie asks, disbelieving. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you ignored me for a month over it?”

Richie has the sense to look chagrined. 

“I was relieved it was you, Richie.”

He wears a tentative smile now. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods, scooting closer to him. He reckons they would look conspiratorial from the outside if any of their friends were still awake; Eddie and Richie, getting into their usual trouble. 

“I think all seven of us are soulmates, in a way. After what we’ve been through.”

Richie’s smile drops as he leans back a bit. “Right. Of course.” 

Eddie’s hands darts out, finding a home on Richie’s shoulder to pull him back in. The cotton of his shirt is warm on Eddie’s cool hand. 

“But Richie, if these dreams have taught me anything it’s that you and I? That’s not platonic.”

Richie’s eyes widen, a boyish grin threatening to overtake his face. 

Eddie traces his features with his eyes. Takes in a mouth he’s seen nearly every day of his life. Thick, wiry eyebrows. A dusting of freckles just below the point where his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. Dark hair that can never seem to stay out of his face. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it all before. How he hadn’t connected the pieces of Richie before him with that of the hazy figure in his dreams. He’s sure everyone feels that way once they know, whether they had known their soulmate beforehand or not. It’s like he’s found an important puzzle piece that puts the whole thing into perspective. 

He remembers thinking back on his soulmate’s laugh, how familiar it had sounded to his ears. 

His face is starting to hurt, and he realizes he’s sporting a matching smile. 

Richie slowly reaches out a hand and holds it over the one Eddie is still resting on his shoulder. 

A choked sound spills from between his lips suddenly and Richie ducks his head in embarrassment. When he finally resurfaces, Eddie is still looking at him with that smile on his face. He doesn’t think it will ever leave. 

The tv is still on in front of them, Michael J. Fox’s voice intermixing with that of the wind softly picking up outside. 

He feels like they’re in their own bubble, in Mike’s barn, safe within the confines of their sleeping bags, surrounded by their best friends. 

Eddie feels safe and loved like he always does when it’s just the seven of them. 

It’s this that gives him the courage to spring forward, nose awkwardly bumping into Richie’s glasses, resulting in a squeak coming from the other boy’s mouth. Then Eddie is trying again, slotting his lips over Richie’s and silencing him. It’s quick and dry, just a press really but Eddie’s nerve endings feel like they’re on fire as he pulls away. Richie’s staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. 

Eddie worries at his lip with his teeth, scared he’d done something wrong, gone too fast. “Rich—”

But now he’s the one being silenced, Richie’s lips on his and it’s no longer dry there’s heat in it and longing and suddenly Eddie’s cheeks are wet, whether from his eyes or Richie’s, he can’t tell, maybe both. And then they’re pulling away for air, leaving but the smallest distance between them, their foreheads pressed together, hot breath puffing around them. 

Eddie’s eyes are tightly closed, tears threatening to spill out. He releases a shaky exhale, feels Richie do the same. 

Richie pulls his forehead away from Eddie’s own and suddenly he’s pressing his lips to Eddie’s temple _one, two, three times._

They move impossibly closer to each other, their pillows being dragged with them, the fabric of their individual sleeping bags stretching. They both just lay there, facing each other, eyes greedily drinking the other in as if they’d never seen each other’s faces before. 

Eddie feels his own eyes growing heavy as Richie lets out a long yawn. The tv continues to play, the only light in the room allowing them to still make each other out. 

“Go to sleep,” Richie whispers. It comes out slurred, his exhaustion winning out. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Eddie falls asleep with a smile still on his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> then they both went to ny together after hs and lived happily ever after, and pennywise was actually dead, the end :)
> 
> on tumblr @ aahsokatano


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